In this thin volume, Spoon tells several stories at once, some more effectively than others. It’s a fairly straightforward memoir, interesting and engaging but still indulging in the navel-gazing inherent in the genre.
Spoon relates the various hardships of their life (a fervently religious family, a schizophrenic father, angst over a nonconforming gender) with precise, at times beautiful, prose. Woven in are other aspects of their life, hinting at a burgeoning musical career and a unique fashion sense, but these are only glimpses in the fairly traditional story of a rough upbringing and subsequent escape.
The narrative jumps and skips around in time, not confusingly, but enough to obscure any sense of momentum. Mentions of an eating disorder and self-harming behaviors show no sense of resolution. While Spoon’s queer identity (or at least, their attraction to girls) is well-described, there is no corresponding detail given about their gender identity or how they related to the word “trans.â€
In some ways this style is refreshing. It’s an important step that a queer and trans person can write a typical memoir without feeling the need to excruciatingly explain their identity or have the storyteller’s natural voice and authorial inclinations be overcome by a coming-out narrative. Unfortunately, for a work dedicated to self-exploration and explication, there is unsatisfyingly little of it.
That said, however, it’s an enjoyable, clearly-written story, valuable both on its own merits and for what it represents in the genre of queer memoir. This is recommended for any library with a public readership. There is enough in this memoir to appeal to those who are already fans of Spoon, or are fellow travelers, or just appreciate a well-told story.
Reviewer: Kyle Lukoff, Librarian
Corlears School, New York City
